


Forgiveness

by melancholyllama



Series: Danger Nights [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Drugs, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Reichenbach, Relapsing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:41:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28115595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melancholyllama/pseuds/melancholyllama
Summary: Sherlock relapses and apologies must be made
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: Danger Nights [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2018249
Comments: 1
Kudos: 28





	Forgiveness

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the long wait. I thought I'd posted it n I hadn't. I know Sherlock seems a bit OOC but it's deliberate- I would've like to see him properly apologise post-reichenbach. It's not canon because Mary isn't with John

*phone call*

"Danger night?" John asked.

"Quite possibly" Mycroft replied frankly.

"Er-okay-Mrs Hudson!" 

"John? John? Is everything okay?" the landlady's fretful reply came.

"Can you check his room?" 

"Oh. Yes, of course, dear." 

"Is she checking?" Mycroft enquired.

"Yes. Where is he?"

"Well, I don't know."

"Fuck's sake! You're the bloody British government, Mycroft."

"Do you want me to send Greg over?"

"Who the fuck is Greg?" Sherlock slurred before collapsing on the sofa.

<>

It was early afternoon by the time Sherlock emerged from his bed and he looked like death. John quickly rushed over to his flatmate. 

"Come on. Shower time, you stink" John told him as they wandered into the bathroom. Tenderly, John removed Sherlock's stained clothes and placed them in the laundry basket. Once Sherlock was in his boxers, John checked the track marks on his arm before removing his own clothes. As John turned on the shower, Sherlock spoke for the first time.

"I didn't mean to hurt you."

"I know" John replied, turning to get the shampoo.

"No, John," Sherlock grabbed his arms, "I mean it. It was…wrong of me…to hurt you. I should've told you how I felt and I didn't."

"Sorry." John was astounded; Sherlock rarely apologised

"Thank you for your apology. I love you."

"Likewise."

"Sherlock!" John yelled at his smirking face.

"I love you too."

<>

"Hello, brother mine."

"Mycroft."

"Good night, was it?"

"Don't start." Sherlock scowled at his brother as he sat down.

"Alright, alright." Mycroft stood up from his seat at his desk and walked towards his younger brother.

"What would mother think of us?" Mycroft enquired as he rolled up Sherlock's sleeve, "An addict and a brother who fails to protect his own." He gently traced the black marks in Sherlock's elbow.

"At least we're not dead," replied Sherlock. He drew his arm back to roll down his shirt as Mycroft returned to his chair.

"What is the purpose of living when all it is is not being dead, eh?” The room was silent bar the soft click of Mycroft’s shoes. 

“Where were you last night?” Mycroft shut his eyes momentarily, before returning his gaze to his brother.

“You scared me, Sherlock.”

“I know.”

“And John”

“I know.”

“And Molly. And Greg. Even Anthea was wor-”

“I KNOW!” Sherlock bellowed as he slammed his fists into the table.

“Calm, Sherlock” Mycroft reached across to rest his hands on Sherlock’s.

“Sorry,” Sherlock whispered meekly.

“It’s fine. I am sure the desk will survive.”

“No, I mean about last night.”

"Okay," Mycroft murmured, letting his hands rest for just a bit longer.

<>

“Coffee.”

“Just give me a minute. I need to finish this.”

“No, no. This is  _ your _ coffee.”

“Oh, right.” She took the mug from his hand.

“Thank you.”

“Fine. It’s fine.”

“You never bring me coffee.”

“No, I-I don’t.”

“What do you want Sherlock?”

“Nothing,” Molly glared at him, “nothing, I promise. It’s in exchange for forgiveness, Molly.”

"Okay, I forgive you," she said, a puzzled look on her face.

“Thank you. It wasn’t my intention to hurt you last night.”

“Yeah, no. I, um, I understand that. Did John send you?”

“No, he didn’t.”

“Mycroft?”

“No. I, um, came of my own accord. I know you care about me,” Molly put her mug down, astounded, “and that is, er, mu-mutual.” Molly couldn’t speak. She couldn’t do anything but throw her arms around his neck and thank God, or whoever’s out there that Sherlock is once again not dead.


End file.
